Me and My Guitar
by Nathan and Sarah
Summary: In GREASE, 1 of the tbirds is named Roger. What if that Roger and Roger Davis are the same person? GreaseRent xover. Rating because, well, it's RENT. This is also written by Sarah and Nathan, mainly Sarah. Plz r&r, Reviews mean the world...
1. Doody

**A/N: To those of you who know _Grease_ from the movie, Putsie is Roger. Not sure if this is movie or musical RENT, but since we've only seen the movie….**

**Anyway, if you read this, PLEASE REVIEW! It's frustrating to see 200+ hits and 1 review from Sarah (she wrote this!). So reviews are gods.**

Me and My Guitar

Chapter 1: Doody

"Gee! We're all going to leave each other! WAAAH!" wailed Frenchy.

Roger suddenly felt arms around his neck. "Uhh, Frenchy?"

"OOPS! I meant to hug someone else!" She rushed to hug Doody, but Patty Simcox beat her to it.

"OH MY! I'LL MISS ALL OF YOU! IT'S BEEN REALLY SWELL KNOWING ALL OF YOU GUYS!" Patty shrieked.

Doody awkwardly hugged her back. "I'll miss you, to…?"

"Always be together…"

"Doody, why are you bright red?" asked Frenchy.

Sonny glared at him. "Pimple puss."

Doody ran and awkwardly hugged Sonny. This time, however, there was more passion in the hug.

"Um, Doody…" Sonny blushed. "I've always wanted to tell you something, but actions speak louder than words."

With that, Sonny and Doody… _kissed_.

Frenchy gaped at them. "He's never stuck his tongue in _my_ mouth…"

"Always be together…"

Roger stood to the side, looking around. "Am I forgotten?"

"We love you, Rump!" Patty squealed.

Roger took several steps away from her.

"I can't believe I've been dating a bi!" screamed Frenchy.

"No," said Doody, finally ungluing himself from Sonny, "it's _gay_. Get it right."

"Yeah," said Sonny, "_I'm_ bi. Honestly."

"Always be together…"

"Sonny, as a token of my love, I want you to take my guitar."

"I don't want that hunk o' junk. It's uglier than Greased Lightning was before it got punked out."

Everyone waited for Kenickie to respond, but he was too busy making out with Rizzo to notice.

Sonny threw the guitar backwards, and Roger caught it.

"Take it, Rump," said Doody. "I don't need it anymore."

Sonny and Doody glanced at each other and began to sing. "C-C-C-C-C-C. A-A-A-A minor. F-F-F-F-F-F. G-G-G-G seventh."

"Shut up!" said a calmish voice.

"Always be together…"

"Danny, Sandy, Marty, would you three shut up already!" everyone yelled.

"Chang, chang, changity-chang shoo-bop…"


	2. Jan

**A/N: Short chapter. Sorry about that…**

Me and My Guitar

**Chapter 2: Jan**

"Yo, April, over here! Meet my guitar, Mimi."

"First," said Jan, "it's JAN in public. Second, isn't that Doody's? Third, _Mimi_!"

"She didn't mean it, Mimi," Roger cooed to his guitar.

"_Mimi_!"  
"I like Mimi."

"And you don't like me?"

"No, I _love_ you. Why is it Jan in public, anyway?"

"I couldn't become a Pink Lady unless I changed my name. And that was in frikkin' sixth grade! Anyway, April's too prissy for me. And January's a month, too."

"But I like April."

"You also like calling a guitar Mimi. I can't trust your opinions, Roge." She unwrapped a Twinkie.

"Why are you always eating those things?"

"Hey, I'm on a diet."

"So you eat ten a day instead of twenty."

"Yep."

"Jan, you aren't into the bi, are you?"

"Ewww… no. Why?"

"Err, uh, just checking… um… take my ring!"

"Um, ok… wow, this is awkward…"

"Yeah…"

"Twinkie?"

"No thanks."


	3. April

**A/N: Ok, so, for those who don't know GREASE as well as we do, Eugene is the nerdy guy...**

Me and My Guitar

Chapter 3: April

"So, Jan, you stopped eating so much and you started taking heroin? Can I be confused?"

"It's April now. And remember how the neighbors who died 2 months after we moved here 2 years ago were junkies? Well, they gave me a free sample. It helped me lose weight, too. You should try it, Roge. It's like walking on clouds."

"I, uh, don't know how?"

"It's easy. Allow me to demonstrate."

When she didn't stop demonstrating, Roger had to cut in. He unwrapped her arm and took the needle out of her hands. April helped him tie up his own arm and shoot the drugs into his veins.

Roger winced. "Why do you like this so much?" He paused and let the feeling seep through his body. "Can I have some more?"

"Sure."

Soon, it became a regular activity for Roger and April to shoot illegal crap into their veins. Even after all their junkie friends, including Marty's ex, Freddy, were done, Roger was all like, "Five more minutes?"

April stopped him by making out with him (and sometimes doing more than making out…).

April had big news for Roger as she stepped into their apartment one day. Scary, surprising news, but big news all the same. She walked a little bouncier than usual and opened the door.

Roger wasn't home, which April found surprising. Moments after she threw her purse on the old couch, the phone rang. She let the machine pick it up.

"Hey, Jan, Rump, it's me, Marty. I have something REALLY important to say to you, please pick up!"

"Marty!" said April picking up the phone. "It's good to hear from you." Pause. "You _do_? How long have you known?" Another pause. "A month? And you're only telling us now?" Yet another pause. "How'd you get it?" She waited for the answer. "Freddy? You're sure?" Silence. "He gave you AIDS. I don't believe it." She hung up.

Mere minutes later Roger walked in. "Hey, April, how's it going?"

"You might want to sit down…" she replied, sitting on the couch.

He sat next to her, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "Marty just called with bad news, Roge."

"Oh, it can't be _that_ bad…"

"She's HIV positive."

Roger stared at her. "What? Marty? She can't be…"

"She is. And that's not all, Roge…"

"What? Don't tell me you are, too…"

"I'm not. But we should probably get tested. No, it's just about the two of us. Or, well, now it's three…"

"What? April, that's…"

"What? Scary? Shocking? Horrible?"

"Wonderful."

"You're joking."

"No."

"Roge, you can be honest with me…"

"I am." He put his arm around her shoulder. "I think you need some serious rehab," he said to her as she prepared to shoot up. "Who knows what you're doing to the baby?"

April sighed. "Roger, you know I have issues handling bad news…"

"Come on, please. For me."

April smiled at him. "How was your day?"

"Well, I found someone willing to live with us and help pay the rent."

"Oh, really, and who might that be?"

"His name's Mark Cohen, and he films documentaries. You don't mind if he makes one about us, do you? He needs subjects."

"He doesn't mind living with a couple of junkies who are too busy doing… other things… at night to sleep and are probably HIV positive? One of which is expecting to bring a child into this cruel world?"

"Well, he doesn't know about the last bit. But I told him about our relationship. He's cool with it."

"Then so am I."

Roger leaned out the window. "Mark! Come on up!"

April gasped and walked over to him. "He lives on the street? Why wasn't I told?"

Roger ignored her and waited for the knock on the door.

When April first saw Mark Cohen, all she could think of was how different he was from what she's expected. She was anticipating a Eugene-type guy. What she saw was a young man with spiky blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and thick black glasses. He was actually kind of good-looking.

"Thanks so much, Roger. I promise I'll help however I can," he said, putting his camera case and bag of clothes next to the door. He caught sight of April. "So this is April. She looks just like you said she would, Roger." He moved closer and whispered, "It's disgusting how much he talks about you. Be honored."

April blushed. "Sit down. Make yourself at home."

Mark sat on the couch and Roger sat next to him, but not too close. He invited April to sit on his lap, and she eagerly obeyed.

"So, April has some big news, don't cha?" Roger asked, playfully shoving her.

April glared at him. "I am _not_ talking to a stranger about Marty's call."

"No, April, the other thing."

April glared at him and shook her head stubbornly.

"I'll tell then." April shook her head more frantically this time, but Roger ignored her. "We'll have a new roommate in less than a year."

"What's their name?"

"Um… not sure yet," said Roger.

"Oh," said Mark, "I see. Congratulations are in order here."

April blushed again. "What's for dinner, Roge?"


	4. Collins

**A/N: This chapter might be a little depressing…**

Me and My Guitar

**Chapter 4: Collins**

Months passed. April tried, and tried hard, to quit, but she couldn't. Roger tried to convince her to see a therapist, but she refused. "Anyway," she argued, "I'm nearly six months along. If nothing has happened to the baby by now, nothing will."

Mark got them on film doing the most random things. He even videotaped Roger making toast for April on her birthday! They laughed about it afterwards, and teased Mark relentlessly about it.

Roger and April both avoided being tested for HIV, and only shared needles between the two of them.

One day, April went out to get a fresh stash for her and Roger. She sealed the deal and walked off when the dealer shouted, "Hey! She stole my stash!"

All the other junkies came running towards April, holding assorted weapons. April backed up several steps. "Watch it! I didn't steal anything. I paid a hefty price for this stuff." She glared at the dealer.

"You should stay away from here, Mommy," the junkies teased her, stepping in closer. "Who knows what could happen to your precious baby?"

April stared bug-eyed at them for a bit before running in the opposite direction. The others came after her and began beating every part of her body that they could reach. April screamed and tripped, falling to the concrete. All she saw now were the faces of all the junkies and their fists that were hitting her all over. She finally, thank God, blacked out.

"April… April… honey? Come on, talk to me."

April's eyelids fluttered open, and she found herself in a hospital bed. "What happened?" she mumbled.

"You got mugged," said Mark bluntly.

April felt empty. "My baby… Roge, the baby…?"  
"He's fine, April. He was born a little early. The doctors had to perform an emergency C-section. He's ok.."

April caught sight of a dark-skinned man standing in a corner. "Who's he?" she asked.

He walked over to her. "Name's Tom Collins."

"He's the one that called an ambulance, honey. He saw the whole thing."

"Collins," said April, reaching up her arms, "I owe you my life." He bent over, and she gave him an awkward hug. He smiled at her.

"Lucky Roger," he said. "I need a relationship like this. Your girlfriend's a sweetheart."

April blushed.

Mark laughed. "You need to start liking girls, Collins."

"Roge," said April, "he reminds me so much of Doody."

"Ironic, huh?"

They laughed at their own private joke.

A nurse walked into the room. "May I talk to April _alone_, please?"

The men nodded and left the room.

"April, we have some bad news," the nurse said, sitting in the chair next to her bed. "Your son tested HIV positive."

April stared at her. "May I see him?"

"I suppose I can arrange that." She got up and left.

"What was that April?" Roger asked when the men came back into the room.

"Girl stuff," said April, not quite ready to tell them.

The nurse rolled an incubator into the room. Inside was a tiny pink alien-looking thing. Tubes and wires were sticking out of his body every which way.

April sat up straighter. Mark pullout his camera and began rolling. "Friday, May 13, 1987…"

"Would you shut up?" Roger asked Mark.

Mark stopped narrating, but he continued to film.

April washed her hands and stuck her hand through one of the flaps in her son's incubator. She touched him, made a face, and pulled her hand out. She glanced up at Roger, teary-eyed. "Roge, he's not…. He's not…" She burst into tears.

Roger glanced at the nurse, who stuck a gloved hand in and nodded. Roger pulled April close and let her sob into his shoulder, feeling the same way himself.

Their nameless son had died the same day that he was born.

As soon as she got back home, April went into the bathroom and locked the door.

"April, I'm so sorry…" said Mark through the door.

"You don't know the half of it!" she wailed.

When she didn't come out for several hours, Roger became worried. He opened the bathroom door and gasped at what he saw.

A pool of blood surrounded April, and she had a knife in one hand. She was dead. There was a note taped to the mirror. "We have AIDS." Roger read.

Roger's high school sweetheart, his lover, his best friend, his songwriting inspiration, was dead.


	5. Mark EDITED

**Edited. Now more funeral-like (glares at Nathan for making it funny in the first place).**

"Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes. Here she lies…beautiful April, passed away due to…"he gulped, "suicide," said Mark, who for some reason was holding a camera.

"Who the pimple puss is April?" Sonny frowned. "Ain't that Jan?"

"Yeah, hey, maybe that dude's just bad with names or somethin'." Doody suggested. "Well, too bad for Rump about this whole thing."

It was, indeed, a funeral for April, and everyone was there: Roger, Mark, Collins, Doody, Sonny, Rizzo, Kenickie, Frenchy, Patty and even Eugene.

Rizzo winced at the word April.

"Ah, come off it, Rizz, it doesn't sound THAT prissy," Kenickie assured her.

Patty skipped over to Roger. "Well, Roge, since you ARE single now that your wife is dead…"

"Don't even THINK about it, Patty," Roger grumbled. "Not in the mood."

"I was just askin'," Patty said, skipping away.

"Hi there, I'm Eugene Florzyc, what's your name?"

"I'm Mark Cohen."

Roger walked around, avoiding April's casket. When he finally got the courage to walk over, he stared longingly at the box of Twinkies that lay in her hand. _I wonder why she always used to eat, she never told me…_he thought.

"She was depressed, she ate to make herself happy," said Frenchy from behind Roger, reading his mind. "She told me at a sleepover."

"She also said you were a good beautician at the sleepover," Rizzo sighed.

"Up yours, Rizzle," Frenchy snapped. Roger sighed and walked away.

Collins wasn't great at making friends, especially not at a funeral. "Hi…uh…I'm Tom Collins. What's your name?"

"Oh, uh, hi, um, err, uh, I'm, uh, Doody.

"Oh my gosh! You're the one I reminded April of!" The two of them awkwardly hugged each other.

"Alright, quiet down," announced Mark. "I would like everyone to step up and give a speech about something they liked about April.

"OR JAN!" Kenickie blurted.

As everyone gave his or her speeches, Roger was more and more heartbroken.

Finally, it was Roger's turn. He stood up, shaking. "Well, as everyone who is here knows," he struggled to keep his voice even, "I loved April. She knew that I did. And you all are probably thinking, 'Why the hell did she kill herself?' I'll tell you." Roger gulped. "April was HIV positive." Gasps. "She also had a baby…" More gasps. "Who died the same day as he was born. I think that finding out about her HIV and losing her son and the same day devastated her. What she did was, well, fucked up." He sighed. "She was my life. I hope to God she doesn't kill both of us." He sat down.

Everyone was silent. "We'll help," whispered Mark to Roger. Collins nodded.

After the forever-long silence ended, Sonny gave the last speech, and the funeral was over.

Roger, guitar in hand, turned to walk home. He started plucking a few strings, and suddenly, a song came to him. A song that had been inspired by April herself. "One song, glory…"


	6. Maureen

**A/N: Are we updating too much?**

Me and My Guitar

**Chapter 6: Maureen**

"Roger! I'm home!" Mark said.

Roger groaned. "Hi, Mark…" he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"How are you?"

"Same as I was a month ago, Mark. Lousy."

"Do you need a hug?"

"Please no."

"Fine. Twinkie?"

Roger looked at him for a few moments, then he burst into tears.

"Uh… sorry, Roge." He paused, then looked behind him at the girl who was standing in the doorway. "Hey, Mo!"

In walked a tall woman with dark curly hair and a huge smile (and ass). "Hi Marky!"

"Roger, this is Maureen," said Mark as Roger snorted, "Who the hell is she?"

"OH MY GOD! I know you! You're… you're shivering…."

"No big deal. They just turned on the AC too high."

"Are you smart-mouthing me! You remind me of this kid at Rydell. People called him Rump."

"That's me…" Roger said.

"What the hell is Rydell?" Mark asked.

"It's my high school!" Maureen and Roger said at the same time.

"You?" asked Roger.

"Me," replied Maureen. "You?"

Roger turned to his guitar. "Mimi? Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Um, Roger, you're talking to your guitar again," said Mark.  
"He's done this before?" Maureen gasped.

"According to Mark, yes."

"Um….. why?"

"Because, well…"

"Let's have some punch. Roger, do you wanna get me some punch?"

"What's the matter? You… crippled…?" He started sobbing again.

"Uh, Marky, can I talk to you _alone_?" Maureen asked.

"Sure," said Mark.

"Mark, your friend has issues," said Maureen bluntly.

"I am aware of it."

"Well, what the hell happened to him since Rydell?"

"Would you please shut up about Rydell?"

"No. Anyway, what the hell _did_ happen to him since Ry-_ high school_!"

"Uh… well… his girlfriend kinda died last month?"

"JAN!"

"No. April."

"Isn't it January?  
"No, it's April."

"Are you-"

"NO! IT'S APRIL, DAMMIT!"

"Try checking a calendar."

"See, it _is_ April. No, wait. It's May. We're both wrong."

"Her name was April," Roger yelled from the other room.

"SORRY 'BOUT YOUR FRIEND!" yelled Maureen.

"Well, I think they were more than just friends. After she _did_ have a baby…" Mark added.

"A baby!" squealed Maureen. "Where!"

"He died, too."

"Man, Roger's life sucks."

The telephone rang. Maureen ran and picked it up. "Hello!"

"Um, who are you? This is Roger's place, right?" said a perky voice.

"Yeah, hold on." Maureen covered the phone with her hand. "ROGER!"

Roger got up and grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Roger, it's Sandy. Danny and I are getting married!"

"Um, Sandy now is _not_ the time…"

"But you've already got a new girlfriend…"

"No, that's just Maureen."

"Man, you know her name and everything. _Of course_ she's not your girlfriend."

"No, she's with Mark."

"OH MY GOD YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND TOO! You know his name, too. You're more like Sonny than I thought."

"Just shut up, Sandy. I'll be there."

"Be where? I never said you had to be anywhere! How did you know about the wedding? Are you psychic?"

"No, that's Patty. And, it's kinda obvious…"

"OK! Make sure to have a passport."

"Why…?"

"We live in Australia, silly!"

"You could've said that earlier. Whatever. Bye."

"Roger, what's taking so long to get punch?"


End file.
